Coming Home
by VirchowsTriadDuet
Summary: The Winchester brothers aren't sure why they were taken from their parents on the night Sammy turned six months old. They've been in foster care for a long time, dodging abuse and struggling to stay together. Castiel joined their little family a few years ago. Now, the trio are being transferred yet again. It's either live with the mysterious new foster parent or be separated.


**A/N: Vivi here! You've probably read my stuff before, but if you haven't, welcome! This story takes place in it's very own AU. Not in the Internal Medicine AU with Ali, or the John's Boys AU with Winthrop. I wanted to write a different kind of story involving foster care, so here's my attempt. I haven't written much of it yet so it'll be ongoing and I don't have a set posting schedule yet.**

 **For those of you who are dying for an Enter the World update, I'm sorry! I've had writer's block on a particular section of that fic for sooo long. Thinking about just cutting that section out and moving on. I hope to pick it back up soon. I'm not abandoning it, I promise!**

 **For those of you who are dying for today's John's Boys update, I'm still sorry! I've been studying for a huge test I have coming up (yes, I am in school- graduate school- and therefore have limited fun writing time). I've gotten about half of the next chapter written, so hopefully tomorrow you'll get the full chapter.**

 **If you've read Family Practice, you (probably don't) remember my author's note about having a few new fics to post 'soon'. That was a long time ago, but this was one of them! And I've almost finished a flashback fic based out of the Internal Medicine AU that I mentioned in the fic itself. Just a few more details and that one's done, too. I'll post it eventually. Promise!**

 **Thank you for clicking on Coming Home. I love that there are people out there who actually want to read my writing. Let me know your thoughts after this chapter in the review box below. Also, don't forget to follow and/or favorite this story and/or me (VirchowsTriadDuet) so you know where to find it again and get updates on when I post. If you've read me before, you know I sometimes post at very strange times. Make sure you stay up to date!**

 **This story revolves around teen!Chesters and teen!Cas, no slash. Warnings for mentions of abuse and strong language. I'll post appropriate warnings before each chapter; please take them seriously. As one who has suffered mental illness for a long time, I can honestly say that this story is not worth damaging your mental or emotional health. No story is. Put yourself first.**

 **This sentence is a shameless plug for my other works; click on my name above to see them. They're pretty popular. Give 'em a try and let me know what you think!**

 **Now, without further ado, this is Coming Home.**

* * *

Dean sat on his lumpy mattress, holding Sam in his lap. The two just rocked back and forth while Sam cried quietly. Cas sat on the bed across the room, expression achingly numb, hands in his lap, staring at the carpeted floor between them. He looked so small in his old, green, canvas coat. Some foster a couple houses back bought it for him from a thrift shop when he tore Cas' old coat in a drunken rage. With Cas inside. They weren't at that house for very long.

"We can't stay here." Dean spoke softly so Diane and Alf wouldn't hear him, even if they were right outside the door. He doubted they were. It was Thursday night. That was 'date night'. Just like Monday, Tuesday, and Saturday. And they had turned all the lights off when they left, which usually meant they were either gone or spying on the boys. They were always telling the trio to only use one bulb at a time if they had to have light at all. Occasionally, in their three month stay with the Grants, one or both of them stayed back in the dark to see if the boys would do something bad, like have two lights on, or try to steal Diane's jewelry, or break into Alf's gun safe. The brothers never tried; they even stuck to the stupid one bulb rule. They knew better than to flirt with the system like that. But Sam sometimes entered a room and flipped the switch when Diane and Alf were supposed to be out, only to find one or both of them creeping around. He had nightmares now, because of their stupid rules and weird habits. Poor kid wouldn't walk around the house at night alone anymore. So the three of them were in their room, under the one dim light in the ceiling. Just like they were every night when the Grants went out. It was just easier to stay there than risk being accused of stealing something or breaking a rule and getting separated when they had to be transferred.

They hadn't been separated in four years. That was the first and last time they were torn apart. Dean had been sent to northern Ohio, Cas to southern Ohio, and Sam to Columbus, smack in the middle of the state. As soon as Dean found Cas, it took both of them a grand total of three days to find Sam; it took four more to get to him. Sam's foster parents got a call from a very nervous baby sitter about two teenagers sitting on their front porch steps while Sam slept upstairs.

Needless to say, they were not separated again.

Cas sighed heavily and closed his eyes, looking ten years older than he really was. "Dean, I only have a couple months before I age out. This could be the last transfer they let me make." He looked to Dean, then to Sam, who was just getting over his sobbing fit. "And they won't let me take guardianship of you both when I turn eighteen. I'm not technically related to you."

Sam heaved one tired sigh and sniffed his nose. He'd been sick for days; caught a cold from his friend Frankie at school. He knew crying wasn't going to help anything, would even make his cold worse, but he just couldn't stop. He was scared and sore and overwhelmed with the thought of having to move _again._ The twelve year old was almost too big to sit in his brother's lap even though he was small for his age, but they always found a way when Sam needed that specific brand of reassurance.

Tonight, he _really_ needed it. On top of being sick, Alf had spanked him because a beer went missing from the fridge. Poor Sam just happened to be in the kitchen at that moment and Alf was pissed. They found out later that Diane had taken it the night before; she took two sips and decided it was nasty. She threw it out. Alf didn't bother to ask her about it before he put Sam over his knee.

Sam had screamed like he was being murdered. He was still small enough that a man Alf's size could hold him down pretty easily; even so, he fought back with everything he had.

The monster only got four or five swats in before Cas came running and ripped Sam away from him. Dean was hot on Cas' heels, putting himself between his brothers and Alf while Cas helped Sam up to their room and locked the door. The youngest Winchester couldn't remember a time when he'd felt more humiliated. Or more terrified.

Dean was glad his brothers were far enough away that they couldn't hear what was said. At one point during the shouting match, Alf raised his hand to Dean, who dared him to do it. He dared the man to slap him and force CPS to intervene. They'd lose their extra income. They'd be taken off the foster list entirely. Alf backed off angrily and left soon after, going to pick Diane up from work for date night.

Honestly, Dean didn't think the Grants were all that bad. Certainly not the worst foster parents they'd ever had. Not even in the top three, actually. Alf was a manager at the local superstore and Diane worked part time at a local fast food joint. They weren't violent, normally. They had a steady income and even got Cas a gift for his birthday, back in August. All three boys enjoyed the gift, which was a brand new Mouse Trap board game. The Grants liked it too; when the boys were playing it, they tended to stay in one room and were relatively quiet.

It would come with them when they left this place, which would be in the next two days if Dean could swing it. "You're family, Cas." Dean said, not stopping the gentle, subtle side to side motion that he'd used for years to calm Sam down. He rested a hand on Sam's shoulder and squeezed. Sam let out another sigh. "They're not going to separate us."

"They will eventually. I'm going to age out in less than a year and foster parents don't take aged-out kids. I won't be able to live with you anymore." Cas said, getting up and going to sit beside Dean and Sam on the bottom bunk of their bunk beds, so Sam could see him. He sent the kid a sad smile before tousling his hair gently. "I'll stay nearby though. I'll try to, at least."

Sam just sniffed his nose and closed his eyes, resting his head on Dean's shoulder.

"They're not going to separate us." Dean repeated. He didn't know how he was going to swing it, but there was no way the system was going to take his little family from him. Sam and Cas were all he had left. Dean and Sam were all Cas ever had.

"What are you g-gonna do, Dean?" Sam asked, his voice still stained with tears. The occasional hiccup was all that remained of the awful sobs that they'd listened to for the past half hour.

"The less you know, the better, Sammy." Dean said, pulling Sam closer and resting his cheek on the kid's head. He knew the action, weird as it was, made Sam feel safe somehow. It always had.

"Dean…" Cas looked nervously at his younger brother, silently pleading that he not do anything too extreme.

"Nothing illegal. I promise. I might just catch Sam's cold." Dean had a plan. He wasn't particularly thrilled at the idea of moving either, but they had no choice. Alf had assaulted Sam. They'd agreed long ago that they wouldn't stay with any foster parents who hurt them. Emotionally, physically- any abuse would not be tolerated. Some they reported to CPS. Some, like the Grants, they would just leave behind. Maybe suggest to the authorities that they only get older kids to foster. Kids who would defend themselves. They weren't bad people; they were just testy.

"Don't do something stupid, Dean." Sam said. He sniffed his nose before continuing. "Eventually they're gonna figure out who's doing all that stuff."

"What stuff?" Dean asked, playfully faking innocence to try and cheer Sam up a little.

"The robberies, Dean. And the 'racoon' infestations. And the pipe problems that turn out to be 'accidental' shut offs by the water company." Sam said quietly, just in case they weren't alone.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Dean said, his playful tone gone. He'd come up with a menagerie of escape plans over the years. Raiding the kitchen of all the food that wasn't in the fridge, making it look like an animal did it by opening packages with a staple puller and pushing one of the ceiling tiles out of the way, tossing a few box pieces up into the attic. When the foster parents would come home, they'd find the mess and try to clean it up quick, but not before the brothers got home from school. Cas was usually the one to call CPS. An agent always came within an hour; the paperwork to file for a minor in the system who was attacked by an animal or hurt by an intruder was intricate and, from what Dean gathered, a huge pain in the ass. Rather than go through that mess of boxes to check, the agent usually just transferred them to a new foster house or a group home while they figured out what happened. Even with his fake robberies- similar plan of attack, but raid all the valuables instead of the food and put them in a plastic bag in an air vent to cover his ass if they tried to trace it back to him- were rarely sloppy enough for anyone to point a finger back at the sixteen year old C student who'd been in foster care since he was four. And even if they did, they could never find any proof. Dean wasn't a great liar, but always put his plans into action in the morning, after everyone else had left for school or work. He always had a solid alibi; he blamed his tardiness on a cold that he'd faked the evening before that caused him to not wake up in time for the bus; the walk to school usually took quite a while in his weary state.

The robberies made Dean feel guilty, but they were the most effective way to get transferred. He never kept anything; no valuables that were 'stolen' ever left the house. After a few weeks or months, depending on how much he disliked the previous foster parents, he'd send an anonymous tip to the police about the plastic bag in the vent, saying that he thought they'd done it themselves for the insurance money. Occasionally- rarely- he'd send a letter with no return address to the foster parents, telling them where to look so they wouldn't have to face criminal charges on his behalf.

He hated that he even had to do those things, but the first few times they'd been abused and requested a transfer, their social worker effectively told them to 'deal with it'. He didn't believe that they were in danger because of the rigorous screening the foster parents had to go through. The social worker always took the word of the foster parent over the word the brothers.

Until Dean called the man and he showed up to see Cas' black eye himself. That was during summer vacation. They had been placed in the backwoods home of a very angry man, outwardly charming and kind, but inwardly very… physical. The social worker pulled up just as the man threw the television remote at Dean; luckily, the worker saw the whole thing through the window.

"It's getting late." Cas said flatly. "And we have school tomorrow. Did you finish your homework, Sam?"

"Yeah." Sam paused to sniff his nose again. "As soon as we got home."

"How about you, Dean?"

"I got a study hall tomorrow before it's due. I'll finish it then." Dean said. _Not that it'll matter. We have to transfer schools anyway._

"Okay. Just… please actually finish it this time, Dean. Believe it or not, you do need to pass your classes to graduate from high school. They won't give you custody of Sam if you flunk out." Cas was completely serious. Dean had a bad habit of not doing his own homework because he was helping Sam with his assignments. It was a kind gesture, but Dean had failed more than one class doing that. Sam's grades, on the other hand, were impeccable.

"I know. Don't get your feathers all ruffled."

Sam slowly pushed away from Dean and stood, rubbing his bloodshot eyes. "Please don't get arrested, Dean." The kid yawned and sniffed his nose before Cas pushed a box of tissues at him, a stern look in his eyes.

"I won't."

* * *

The next morning, Dean woke up with a snoring Sam cuddled under his arm. It wasn't often that they did shared a bed anymore- Dean was trying to get him to outgrow it- but he caved when, at midnight, Sam climbed down from the top bunk and silently got under his blanket. He was shaking.

Dean pushed his plan up a few days.

And Sam's close proximity made for the perfect cover.

"School, boys. Get up before you miss the bus." Diane pushed open their door and announced to all three boys how important it was that they not miss the bus. "Alfie and me have to work today, and we can't drive you if you get left behind. We'll be gone before the bus comes. Got it?"

"Yes, ma'am." They groaned in unison. She didn't leave until Cas sat up in bed. She knew he'd whip them into shape. He always did.

"Rise 'n shine, amigos." Cas said, tugging at the blanket on his brother's bed. "Bus leaves in twenty minutes."

"Can't I stay here?" Sam whined as he pulled the blanket over them once more. "I don't feel good."

"We gotta go." Dean grumbled, coughing loudly.

"Not you, too." Cas leaned over the bed, over Sam, and put his hand on Dean's head. "At least you don't have a fever." Sam was next. "And yours is finally gone. No excuse to stay home today."

"But Cas…" Sam pouted, sending his oldest brother his best set of puppy dog eyes.

Dean sometimes wondered what happened to Cas before they met him ten years ago. He would never tell them, but Sam's adorable eyes had no effect on him whatsoever. Well, maybe a little. They did make him smile if that was the effect Sam wanted. "No buts. Get dressed."

"He said butt." Sam giggled quietly and yawned, stretching out his arms and bumping his elbow into Dean's nose.

"Ow. Up, squirt. You heard the man." Dean rolled over Sam and got up, setting about his morning routine. Cas was already mostly dressed by the time Dean's feet hit the floor. And both of them were dressed when they finally dragged Sam out of bed and coaxed him into pants and a long sleeved shirt.

It seemed fitting to Dean that they should be wearing some of their nicest clothes that day. He wasn't sure if it was planned or not, but he knew that wearing them was the best way to keep them when a rapid transfer was in motion. A lot of their things got lost or left behind when they were swept out of a bad situation like this one. Dean lost his guitar that way.

 _They know what's going to happen._ Dean thought to himself with a resigned sigh. His siblings were packing their duffels with their essentials. Not everything they owned; they had to make it look like they were really packing when the social worker told them it was time to go. He'd get suspicious otherwise.

No, these were just the absolute most important items, the ones they couldn't risk leaving behind. Sammy packed his journal, his old cell phone, the jar that held his rock collection, and a small stuffed Sasquatch toy; a gift from a sweet old foster mom years ago. They hadn't wanted to leave her, but she had a _real_ rat infestation and the poor woman got pneumonia because of it. CPS didn't know about it until she went into the hospital and the social worker came to get them. Needless to say, he was pretty pissed that neither the boys nor the woman had told anyone.

Cas packed his board game, his file folder, his pocket knife, his worn cell phone, and the shoe box of all their memories. It had old pictures, ones of Dean and baby Sam from their biological Mom and Dad and their first foster parents, some from Cas' first years in private foster homes with his then foster siblings, and a few they took together over the years with disposable cameras, printed at the store with what little money they could scrape up at the time. There were photos of Sam's kindergarten graduation, Dean's first win at a football game, Cas' science fair project with him standing proudly beside the second place ribbon. Happy things that they wanted to remember lived in that box. But also some sad things. The hospital bracelets from when bullies or foster parents or neighbors beat them so badly they broke bones and had to call 911; those were kept as proof, in case there was ever a lawsuit. The shattered remains of a Christmas ornament Sam and Dean made together at a boy's home; they had it for years and put it up every Christmas until a foster mom thought it looked stupid hanging in their bedroom window. She threw it in trash, breaking it.

A small medical kit, though, was probably the most sobering thing Cas packed away as Dean watched. Gauze, antiseptic wipes, butterfly bandages, you name it. If it fit in that cracked tupperware box, it was in there. Dean liked to be ready. Cas agreed.

With another morose sigh, Dean faked a loud coughing fit. Sam and Cas didn't look up. Dean packed what few belongings he cared to take with him. A necklace that was surrendered to CPS in a bag of Sam's things when the brothers were first removed. It had always intrigued Dean; it was a little head with horns, some tribal looking thing. It must have been important if his parents sent it with Sammy; Dean planned to give it to him on his thirteenth birthday, as a surprise. A few of Sam's baby teeth; Dean didn't know why people kept them, but he felt he should too. He did the whole tooth fairy thing; he practically paid for them, so why not keep them?

Dean liked to travel light, and it's not hard to figure out why. That being said, the only other thing he made sure to pack every time they were transferred was a beat-up old toy car. It was a classic car, but Dean wasn't sure of the make or model. His Dad gave it to him for his fourth birthday, just a few months before CPS intervened.

Dean missed his parents but he never brought it up. He wasn't sure he _should_ miss them. He didn't want to be judged or looked down on for it.

"Breakfast, boys." Diane yelled up the stairs. "Come and get it."

"Everyone ready?" Cas asked, scanning over the three duffel bags stuffed under the bunkbed and ready for quick access. They knew he wasn't talking about being ready for the upcoming school day.

"Yeah." Dean said, nudging Sam out the bedroom door so he wouldn't try to jump back into bed at the last moment. Kid was sneaky and fast; it was cute sometimes, but man was it annoying. Kind of like how loud Sam managed to be when he tromped down the stairs.

"Lucky Charms." Sam smiled when he saw the box on the rickety table in the kitchen.

"Have fun at school, boys." Alf walked into the kitchen through another door and passed the boys. Dean felt Sam press his back against him and Dean rested his hands on the kid's shoulders to calm him down. Alf didn't even look at Sam before walking out the front door.

"Put the milk away when you're done, okay?" Diane said as she threw on her coat and walked fast to follow Alf.

"Yes, ma'am." They said obediently, watching her leave. When the door shut, all three boys breathed a sigh of relief.

"Eat up." Dean pushed Sam toward the table and followed after him. "Brain food."

"Yeah, right." Sam mumbled, not hesitating in pouring himself a massive bowl.

* * *

"That cereal isn't sitting right with me." Dean said, grimacing as he rubbed his stomach.

Cas popped out of the bathroom, toothbrush in his mouth, a quizzical look on his face.

"I think Sam got me sick."

Cas just rolled his eyes and went back to getting ready.

"I did not." Sam yelled from downstairs as he packed his backpack for school.

"You can't skip school again, Dean, they'll call Diane." Cas emerged from the bathroom and wiped the remaining water from his face with his sleeve.

"I'm not gonna skip. I'm just gonna take some medicine and wait inside until it works before I stand out on the curb like a lady of the night. It's cold out there, man."

"If you miss the bus, you'll be late. You'll get _another_ detention and Alf will have to pick you up _again._ Just… please please please be quick about it." Cas said quietly. "And don't make too much noise. The houses are kinda close together here, in case you didn't notice."

Dean noticed. He noticed as soon as they arrived at the suburban dump. "Just keep Sam occupied until I get there or the bus comes. Leave without me if you have to. I'll find a way to school. Cross my heart."

"I hate this, Dean. We could just request it the old fashioned way. You don't have to risk going to juvy." Cas ducked into their room and retrieved his book bag.

"That'll take weeks, dude. We can't let Sam get hurt again." Dean said, almost pleadingly. " _I_ can't let him get hurt again."

"I love him, too, Dean. But if you go to court and don't qualify for juvy, you could be tried as an adult and sent to actual prison. Then where we will be? I can't take guardianship of Sam and he'll still be in the system when I age out."

"I _know_ , Cas. I'm just doing the best I can, okay? These are the cards we've been dealt. So what I have a couple aces up my sleeve. I've never actually stolen anything. I've never damaged property. I might have tossed some crumbs around, but that was the worst of it." Dean hushed his voice so Sam definitely couldn't hear from downstairs. "If that man hits Sam again, I _will_ kill him."

"Dean, please…" Cas's face fell and his voice became filled with nervous energy. "Do what you have to do, but don't hurt Alf. I- I can't raise Sam like you can. I can't do it alone, even if I _could_ get custody."

"I'll meet you outside, Cas. Keep Sam out of the road." Dean smiled sadly and pushed Cas toward the stairs.

"I left my watch on the dresser. Sam's emerald is there, too. Don't tell him." Cas sighed, and trudged down the stairs. Dean listened as Cas told him Dean wasn't feeling good and that he'd be out in a few minutes. They went out the front door, together, to stand at the end of the drive and wait for that yellow deathtrap.

"Sorry Diane." Dean murmured. He really felt bad for what he was about to do to Diane's things, but he felt no remorse whatsoever for Alf and his shit. Diane at least _tried_ to take decent care of them.

Dean went down the stairs and found a pair of Alf's boots; a cleaner pair, with no dirt that could be knocked off. He carried the rubbery things out the back door and into the backyard, putting them on once they were resting on grass. They were about two, maybe three sizes too big for him, but he made due.

There was a small hiking trail that ran through the woods at the back of the property about fifty yards out. Dean stumbled his way to the trail, walked for a few yards on it to make sure his prints wouldn't show up on the hard packed earth, and then went crashing through the forest, bumbling into the backyard, up the stairs, and stood before the unlocked door for a moment. He shuffled his feet a few times, like a robber would if they were trying to pick a lock; no one around here had any security cameras, and he knew both neighbors worked at a local factory, on third shift. They wouldn't be home yet.

He opened the door with his bare hands- he did live there after all, not like they could print him and accuse him based on that- before barging in. He went straight for the stairs, leaving a scant trail of dirt, mud, and leaf litter in his wake. From his pocket, he produced a plastic bag; the kind from the local superstore that almost everyone in the town would have. The boy's bedroom was first; he kicked the door open, leaving a smudged footprint, and went to look through the duffels, going through the motions, since those were the first things his eyes was drawn to. Then he swiped Cas' watch and Sam's rock from the dresser and scattered a few articles of clothing from the drawers onto the carpet. The watch and rock went into a rip in his duffel bag, not the plastic bag, where he could push small objects deep into the recesses of the lining and no one would be able to find or feel them. He tucked Sam's necklace in there, too. He figured it was probably valuable enough to steal.

He then entered the Grant's bedroom and began collecting Diane's jewelry. Once he felt he had most of it, he went for Alf's watches, his only pair of cufflinks, his grandfather's pocket watch and its solid silver chain, and anything else that looked valuable. He threw clothes from the dresser to the floor like he was looking for hidden cash. He sent knickknacks to the floor if they were in his way, trying not to break them but also trying to make the scene convincing. He took Diane's expensive perfume from the bathroom. He grabbed Alf's ADHD medication, too. That was the only prescription med he could find.

Back downstairs, he rooted through the kitchen drawers for a stash of cash- surprisingly, he found one with about a hundred and twenty dollars in it, underneath the utensil sorting rack. All of it went in the plastic bag, no matter how much he wanted to take it. He didn't want them to have any evidence that he was involved in this incident at all. The bookcase wasn't so profitable though.

Those were usually the only places he looked. Just where any person with a brain would look for easily portable, pawn-able valuables and cash. He went out the back door once more, down the stairs, and removed Alf's boots. Going back inside with the boots and the bag, purposefully _not_ closing the door all the way, he cleaned the boots in the bathtub and washed any evidence down the drain. He left those there for a moment to enter the Grant's bedroom. This old house had big, kid-swallowing cold air returns, with grates that just lifted right off. Dean tossed the bag far enough down the duct that someone would have to remove the grate to see it. Replacing the grate, he went back to the boots which were nearly dry, and knocked the soles of his own shoes against the soles of the boots a few times to make them look less pristine. Alf would never notice the difference; Dean even put them in the exact same position that he found them in.

Dean put on his shoes by the door, grabbed his backpack, poured a little Pepto down the sink- he said he was going to take some medicine- rinsed the evidence away, and joined his brothers on the curb after locking the front door. "I don't feel any better." Dean grumbled, feigning his illness so Sam would be their key witness for that morning. "Why can't we just stay here, Cas?"

"The school has truancy rules, Dean. You can't miss another day even if you _do_ have a fever. End of discussion." Cas was nearly growling by the time he finished. Dean was surprised that Cas even let him do the things he did, considering how he felt about them. Not that Cas could stop him, but still.

They waited another few minutes in awkward silence before the old school bus pulled up and whisked them off to school.

* * *

When the bus dropped them off at home, there were two police cars parked on the street.

"Boys?" Diane ran out the front door to meet them in the driveway. "I want you to remain calm, okay?"

"What happened?" Sam tried to peer around her to see what was going on, but she blocked his view quickly. He raised innocent, frightened eyes to her and stepped a little closer to Dean, who put an arm around his shoulders.

"Someone broke in and stole some things. I didn't have the chance to call the school and ask them to keep you for a little while. I only got home an hour ago, and well..." Diane looked helpless as she put her hands on her hips. "My jewelry is gone and the police think whoever broke in may have taken some things from your room, too."

Sam broke away from under Dean's arm and ran round Diane, headed straight for the front door. Dean caught up with him on the porch, just in time. He pulled Sam back from a limp line of yellow police tape by the handle on top of his backpack. "Sammy, this is a crime scene now, okay? We have to talk to the police before we can go in. They don't like when people wreck evidence."

"Mrs. Grant?" Someone called from inside the house. Diane had followed the boys to the porch and now pushed past them to talk to the officer. "These your boys?"

"My foster kids, yeah." She said quickly.

"Foster kids?" The officer looked worried and suddenly very suspicious of the two teens in front of him.

"That's what I just said, so, still yes."

"They go to school today?"

"Yeah." Diane said, confused. "They took the bus after Alf and I left for work."

"If I call the school, will they back that story up?" The officer asked the kids. Sam once again moved closer to Dean, instinctively. He knew the officer wouldn't hurt him, but he was a large man with a deep voice and an imposing stare. Just like Alf. Just like most of the abusive foster men they'd been around.

"Yes." Cas said in a tone that left no room for argument. "We got on the bus ten minutes after Diane and Alf left. The bus driver can vouch for us. Our teachers took attendance. They can vouch for us. Are you trying to accuse us of something?" By the time he stopped speaking, there was venom in Cas' voice; Dean could tell that his big brother was having a _very_ long day already.

"There was no sign of forced entry. Did you check the doors before you left? The windows?" The officer asked, visibly displeased with the tone this young man was talking with.

"That's not our job. Read the foster care rules." Cas spat out. "The windows are usually locked anyway, though, and so are the doors. Are you saying the dude just crawled through a window? There are screens in all of 'em…"

"The back door was open when Mrs. Grant came home." Officer DiGeorge, as his badge read, crossed his arms and glared at Cas, then Dean. "What about you? You check the doors?"

"No." Dean said flatly. "I threw up this morning. Barely made it on the bus. My kid brother got me sick and my big brother wouldn't let me stay home."

"Bet you're glad now, jerk." Cas muttered just loud enough that the officer could hear him.

"Mrs. Grant, why don't you take them to their room and see if anything was taken there. Officer Hetrick will go with you. Hetrick!" Sam jumped when the man yelled back into the house. "Don't touch anything you don't have to."

"Dean, what if they got my rocks?" Sam asked, very real stress ringing clear in his soft voice.

"They're just rocks, Sam. Sandstones, sediment blobs, slate, that one chuck of obsidian; they aren't that valuable. I bet the guy didn't even look in the jar when he saw a bunch of random stones in it." Dean said lightheartedly as they entered the house. "I'm sure they're fine. Even the little green one at the bottom."

"My emerald." Sam gasped, running out ahead of them as they walked. Officer Hetrick stopped him from getting in front of her, but he was right behind her the whole rest of the way.

* * *

"It's gone!" Sam wailed, tears threatening in his eyes. Dean's heartstrings pulled something fierce as he watched his little Sammy dump the jar on the floor and search through it, only to realize that his precious emerald was missing. He knew that rock meant a lot to the kid; a field trip that one of the boy's homes took was to one of those places where you can sift through a bucket of dirt laced with cheap rocks with a couple pretty ones thrown in every couple of buckets. Sam just so happened to find a small, lopsided emerald. Dean almost broke his own hand getting it back from an older boy who took it right out of Sam's grasp. That ass had a black eye and fractured collar bone for a good long while.

"What is, Sammy?" Dean asked, trying to keep up the charade as he went through his own things and picked up the clothing that was on the floor.

"My emerald." He started crying. Full on ugly crying. Not as hard as last night, but hard enough to make Dean stop everything and kneel on the floor with him. They collected the rest of his stones back into the jar and then Dean hugged Sam until he stopped crying.

"I'm sorry, Sammy." Dean whispered, guilty tears threatening in his own eyes. "I'm so sorry."

"So one missing emerald." Officer Hetrick wrote it down on a small notepad she produced from a pocket. She sounded like she couldn't care less, which didn't help Sam's sobbing fit at all. "Anything else?"

"I can't find my watch." Cas said, not stopping to look at the woman as he continued frantically riffling through his duffel and the top dresser drawer. "It- it's not even silver. It's just stainless steel."

Dean had to admit that Cas was a pretty good actor when he wanted to be. "And my necklace is gone. I always keep it in the side pocket of my duffel and it was open and it's gone. Had a gold pendant on it." Dean said quietly, still holding onto Sam and being held onto.

"Emerald, necklace, watch. Anything else?"

"My pocket knife is gone, too." Cas said quietly, digging through his duffel.

Dean tried to remember if _he_ took that, or if Cas just misplaced it. He was pretty sure he hadn't taken it. That worried him.

"Okay, so emerald, necklace, watch, knife. That it?"

"Oh, I found my pocket knife." Cas smiled and breathed a sigh of relief as he held up the tiny, two inch, wood encased thing. It had his initials carved in it: C. He only had the one initial. He refused to accept the last name they assigned to him: Quincy.

Unbeknownst to his brothers, Cas' birth mother abandoned him on the steps of a church in Quincy, Ohio. Luckily, the minister's wife was tending flowers near the entrance and heard him wailing; she didn't know how long he'd been there when she found him. She called an ambulance right away and probably saved Cas' life. He was dangerously dehydrated and sunburned; it was August, after all, and that day was hot. The woman supposedly found him wrapped up in a cheap, folded up bedsheet with a piece of paper that read 'Castiel' stuck in the folds. Cas was told he still had part of his umbilical cord attached. He was just days old.

Cas never believed that there was a piece of paper with him. He had always thought the minister's wife named him, since Castiel is the name of an angel who presides over Thursdays and Cas was found on a Thursday. Even so, the name was the closest possible connection he had to his real mother during his childhood, so he kept it. He didn't realize until he was older that he was clinging something that the woman who abandoned him might have given him. It was too late to change his name by then; Castiel was who he was and he liked who he was. He did decide to shorten it to Cas, though; that made him feel a little better. Gave him a sense of control over his chaotic life.

So when Cas was dragged, along with the other kids from the boy's home, to a flea market a few streets down and he saw the little pocket knife with just a C on it, he grabbed it immediately. The merchant at that table saw the five year old nab the knife and stopped him from walking away while none of the chaperones from the home were looking. Cas was a little scared, but all the man did was show Cas how to open and close it safely and tell him to never use it to hurt himself or anyone else. Tiny Castiel, all scruffy black hair and shyness back then, just nodded and put the little, closed pocket knife into his shoe, since he knew the chaperones would check each kid's pockets when they got back to the home. He never saw that merchant at the market again.

"Glad to hear it, kid." Officer Hetrick scribbled out part of her notes and sighed. "Anything else?"

"Are all your files still there, Castiel?" Mrs. Grant asked. She knew he kept track of all the boy's information, their identification cards, their school records, you name it, he probably had it in that manila folder of his. His astute record taking made Diane's job much easier when she had to help sign them up for school.

Cas took a moment to dig the folder out of the depths of his duffel and go through it carefully, checking off each document in his mind. _Three birth certificates, three social security cards, records of foster homes, court transcripts…_ "Yeah. We're good."

"So nothing else. Great. Back downstairs and out on the porch, everyone. We're gonna take statements."

* * *

As always, Cas was the one who called their social worker. His name was Ian Ourse, and he did not appreciate 'I O U' jokes.

That didn't stop the boys from trying out new ones every time they saw him.

Well, at least most of the times they saw him. Cas was in no mood when the man in question showed up two hours later. The three siblings were sitting on the front porch steps, Dean helping Sam do his homework while Cas went through their files once more to make sure they had everything they would need for another transfer.

"Boys." Ian called as he walked down the dirt driveway, trying to keep the dust off of his polished black shoes and dress pants. He wasn't an old fellow, maybe early forties, but he had been Cas' social worker for as long as Cas was in the system, and he took on Sam and Dean after the boys were sent to Ohio. He was the reason the three of them found each other. "Sam and Dean Winchester and Castiel Quincy. How are you boys holdin' up?"

"They stole my emerald." Sam was all bitterness and angst just half an hour after discovering his rock was taken. It was all Dean could do to get him to focus on his math homework and not break down and slip him the rock when no one was looking.

"Sorry to hear that, buddy. I'm gonna talk with the officers for a while, and then Diane, see what they think about all this." Ian said. "You good to stay out here a little while longer?"

"Don't see why not." Dean said flatly. "We've been here for like three hours now."

"Won't be much longer."

* * *

It wasn't much longer. Half an hour later, Ian returned and crouched in front of the boys, his knees popping in protest. He told them he did another inspection of the house- private foster homes had to be kept up to a strict code- and it failed. Apparently, Alf and Diane failed the 'guardian' portion of the test, too. Even with just Diane present, Ian was able to gather enough information to convince him that she and her husband were no longer fit to foster. They weren't discharged from the program, per se. They just had a lot of work to do personally and on the house.

"Everything passed inspection before we placed you here, I promise. Just sounds like Mr. and Mrs. Grant have been having some marital and financial problems lately. The robbery was really just the last straw for them, I guess. They agreed to release you voluntarily. I'm sorry, guys, but we have to move you again." Ian was a good man. He was soft spoken and gentle with his words and might have been the one person the boys could count on in the whole world besides each other.

Cas and Dean felt guilty tricking and manipulating him again. Sam was mostly unaware of the act, thinking it to be real, what with his jewel missing.

"So… where now?" Dean asked, wringing his hands together nervously. _Please make this the one we stick with 'til we age out. Please don't separate us._

"Well, here's the deal." Ian stood and stretched his back, opting to stand for the remainder of the conversation. "I can have you each sent to separate homes, where you'll get all the-"

"No." All three voices sounded equally as adamant.

"Okay. I can place Castiel by himself and-"

"He stays." Dean said firmly, glaring at the man.

"Well, I can put you and Castiel in a boy's home and Sam can-"

"No." Again, just as sure as before.

Ian rubbed his neck and sighed. "Look, you really don't have a choice in the matter, guys. I've been monitoring all the available private foster homes in the state and none of them, at this moment, have the necessary paperwork and consent to house two teens and a middle-schooler all together. I can maybe get you in the same neighborhood, if I split you-"

"No." Dean growled. "We stay together. We'll go to a home if we have to."

"Dean, you know how those work. There are age brackets; you wouldn't be in the same homes. If I have to place Castiel _with_ you two, it's going to have to be in a private home. Otherwise, he's on his own."

"So what are we gonna do?" Sam asked nervously, finally closing his workbook. "If nobody will take us and we can't live in a boy's home, what happens?"

Ian donned a tired smile and put his hands on his hips; he looked exhausted already. "I was hoping you wouldn't ask."

* * *

"He's never had foster kids before?" Cas turned to his left and looked right at Ian as they sped down the highway. "And you're sending _us_ to him?"

"Aren't we kind of a handful?" Dean piped in from the back seat, looking worried. "You said no one in Ohio wanted us."

"I said no one in Ohio could take you in at this time, not that no one wanted you. And yes, he recently signed up and passed all his tests and the required boxes are all checked. You'll be his introduction into the foster care world." Ian glanced down at the printed instructions next to him and passed the exit he almost took by accident.

"We've never had a fresh parent before." Dean couldn't believe what he was hearing. Fresh foster parents were rare. Those were the ones who either fell in love with their foster babies- because they always went for babies- and adopted if they could or quit the system after their first preteen brat punched a hole in the wall. Dean had also heard of fresh parents being some of the most dangerous; one of the boys at a home the brothers were sent to years ago had a weird dip in his arm where a fresh parent took a baseball bat to him. It ruptured a muscle, basically turned it into mincemeat; they had to take it out when they fixed his arm. Kid couldn't lift more than five pounds with that arm ever again.

"No you have not. About time for a change, though, right? I'll bet you boys haven't been outside Ohio in years." Ian tried to sound hopeful, but he'd been awake since six that morning and it was nearing midnight. His poor wife had to put their three kids, all under ten, to bed alone and that wasn't fair to her. But being abandoned wasn't fair to these boys and if he could help it, he wouldn't let them down.

"No we have not." Dean said flatly. "Are we getting transferred out of state because he's the _only_ one willing to take us?"

"H-he's not the only one, but he's the closest." Ian said with an uncomfortable shrug.

"You said he lived twelve hours away." Dean said incredulously. _Is it really so bad to take in three kids?_ The more Dean thought about it, the more he started to think that, yeah, it was probably a pretty big feat. Especially with the track record he and his brothers had.

Ian chose not to respond to Dean's statement. He didn't want the boys to feel… unwanted. They'd had enough of that in life.

"What's he like?" Sam asked quietly, leaning heavily on the door as he struggled to stay awake. Car trips always made him sleepy and it was way past his bedtime.

"He's older than Diane and Alf. In his late forties. Got a nice little farmhouse just outside town."

"Is it just him or is there a wife, too?" Cas asked, hoping for there to be some kindhearted woman to buffer the man if he was anything like Cas imagined.

"No, he's a widower."

Cas' face fell. _So much for that 'motherly' touch. Women always try harder than men to make us feel more comfortable at their houses. Guess we'll just have to tough it out_ again _._

"Is he nice?" Sam yawned and shook his head to stay awake for the answer to his question.

"Nice enough to pass all the requirements."

"How close is the school?" Dean loved when the school was close enough to walk to from the house; he got to sleep in later that way.

"You'll have to ride a bus."

 _Bummer._

"How's the cell reception there?" Cas' voice could not have been more serious if he tried. If this home ended badly, Cas had to be able to call for help. Ian, 911, whichever the situation called for. Without cell signal, their lives might be at risk.

"I don't know. I've never been to South Dakota."

* * *

 **A/N: Who lives in South Dakota?**

 **Don't forget to:**

 **Review (questions, comments, concerns are all welcome)**

 **Favorite/Follow the story**

 **Favorite/Follow me**

 **Have a great day!**

 **See you soon.**


End file.
